


The Height of Our Lives

by theotpeffect



Series: Snowflakes [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Attempt at Humor, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Homophobia, M/M, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-28 16:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2739038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotpeffect/pseuds/theotpeffect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of little stories that take place throughout Jean's life in the main story Is This It?. Some bits and pieces in the past and pieces that didn't fit into the main story line are located here, along with chapters that are in the pov of other characters and things I wasn't able to go in depth with!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday Morning Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean recounts the story of why he was late for Anatomy class on Monday morning. This takes place between chapters three and four of Is This It?.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So wow, I'm a little more embarrassed than I thought I would be about publishing this, even if the smut is light. Anyways, enough of my angsting. Thank you for coming! I don't really have a schedule for this story like I do with the other one so I'll just publish chapters whenever I have time and whenever I come up with something that goes in between one chapter and a new one in Is This It?. Oh, and if you really want something in this one all ya got to do is ask and I shall deliver!

This morning I'm finding myself running out the door. Due to... certain incidents that occurred I'm officially going to be late for my Anatomy class for the first time this year, not to mention I will never be able to look Marco in the eye again.

Yesterday was quite an eye-opening experience. I made out with the girl of my dreams and the only thing I could think about was one of my best guy friends.

Last night after I got home from dropping off Marco I went straight to my room. I think I was in some sort of daze because my mom came in at one point with a glass of water and a question of whether or not I needed medicine. I told her no and worried that what I might have needed was Marco and not medicine.

Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. I'll skip all the gory details about how I flailed around in bed when I found sleep impossible to grasp and how I rubbed at my temples constantly and tried to banish thoughts of Marco for a time when I wasn't tired or needing to wake up at obscene hours in the morning for school. Neither of those things happened, so I was forced to lie in my bed, stare at the ceiling and confront my feelings. There was a lot of whining and groaning as I realized things that I had been too much of a bitch to admit before. By the time three-thirty came around I had mostly accepted the fact that I had... strong feelings. For a guy. Who also happened to be my friend. After that nod of acknowledgement I was finally able to go to sleep.

Of course, my two and a half hours worth of sleep was filled with Marco. Which, subsequently got me into the event that I fondly look back on as  _the Monday morning-wood incident._

* * *

I wake up to the sound of the alarm on my phone going off. I thank myself for having the foresight of not setting the thing on the other side of the room, because I know that I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to get up and turn it off. Instead I scrabble at my side until my hand wraps around the familiar shape. I swipe across the screen with reckless abandon until the damn thing shuts up.

I let it drop back onto my mattress and roll over. I notice that my crotch is a little more sensitive to the heavy blanket over me than it should be. Am I hard? Goddammit, if I am I don't think I have time for a cold morning shower. I blindly search for my phone again, not once opening my eyes as I reach behind me.

Finally I get a hold of the device again and bring it over so I can read the screen. I take a few moments to open my eyes and when I do I stare at the screen in hopes for the answer to the time. I grunt in frustration after a moment and let the phone drop again. I can't read fucking Chinese so I'm just going to assume I have a lot of time to get ready. Why the hell isn't my phone showing proper numbers anyway?

I roll over onto my back again and rest there for a few more minutes. I think I even fall back asleep for a little while but then I slowly wake up again when my hand accidentally brushes against, what I assume would be, my erection when I roll over again. I sigh and rub the back of my hand over it again. Not for any perverted reasons, I just want to rest my hand on my hip, geez.

That lie is dismantled pretty damn quick when I start moving my hips back and forth slowly, looking for some more friction. I angle my hips towards the mattress and continue my lazy -fuck I'll admit it- humping. My thumb makes little circles around my hip and I imagine that it's someone else's hand. A strong hand, with maybe a few freckles scattered around it. Their hand gets a little more adventurous and caresses my ass before squeezing. They even trail a finger over my crack and it makes me shiver.

Their hand moves to my front and starts palming my dick. I gasp a little and move onto my back again. Their hand keeps at their ministrations and I begin to move my hips again, this time up and down, searching for more of their hand. They press down a little harder and my hips buck a little more than entirely necessary. 

Their hand goes up to my naval and massages there for a little while before gently tugging the hem of my underwear down. I move the blanket out of the way so I can show more of myself to them. He jerks my underwear down until my cock springs to attention. It's begun leaking a little already and they waste no time with rubbing their thumb over my slit. I buck my hips again and bite at my hand. I imagine he chuckles at my reaction and the sound is so amazing. I roll my hips up until his hand is gripping the base of my shaft. I breath out slowly and nod, waiting for him to continue. They start off slowly, crawling up my cock and when he reaches my head he squeezes lightly before he trails back down again at a leisurely pace. I widen my legs and buck into their hand. I need him to touch me more.

I want him to kiss me.

He doesn't so I settle for trailing my fingers over my lips and imagining what his lips feel like. I part my lips slightly when he picks up the pace of his strokes just a little bit, just enough to torture me.

I suddenly wonder what his tongue would feel like in my mouth and when he still doesn't kiss me, even though somewhere in the back of my mind I know I ask him, I stick the fingers tracing my lips into my mouth. I don't think his tongue would feel like this. Marco is tender,  I don't think he would be nearly this rough in my mouth. But I continue to suck on my fingers as Marco continues to stroke me.

I let out a strangled groan when he finally pumps his hand up and down at a pace I could totally agree with. He presses his thumb over my slit from time to time, smearing pre-cum over my head. I groan softly or fuck myself into his hand each time he does this to me.

At some point I move my fingers out of my mouth and began fondling my balls. I don't know when that happened, I was too focused on Marco's hand to notice. I experimentally move my fingers a little lower than my balls but no further than that before bringing them back up again and rubbing at my chest.

Marco picks up his pace and I imagine that I open my eyes for the first time during this whole endeavor. I imagine that Marco is staring me right in the eyes, with blown pupils as he drinks me in and picks up the pace of his sturdy hand that moves over my cock so well. I imagine his lips clashing onto mine and suddenly the idea of him fucking his tongue into my mouth isn't too bad or inaccurate of an idea. I feel a tightening at the base of my stomach and then I'm coming. 

"Marco," I moan. I snap my eyes open and am greeted with the familiar sight of my room. Except I'm alone and Marco isn't here.

... Which means I just jerked off to him. I clap my clean hand over my mouth.

Fuck. I just jerked off to him.

I grab my phone and check the time. 

Double fuck. I'm going to be late. 

I jump out of bed and glance in the mirror that's hanging up on my closet door and take in the sight in front of me.

Triple fuck. I'm a mess. 

I probably go through my morning routine faster than I ever have in my entire life. Cleaning up ins't too bad since I only came in my hand and on my stomach. However cleaning up my thoughts is a little harder.

Thanks a fucking ton, brain. I barely admit that my feelings for Marco are... romantic, not even four fucking hours ago and you're already having me make up fantasies about him giving me a hand job. That's just perfect. Dandy. I couldn't ask for fucking more.

I throw myself into my car and careen down the road, in an attempt to get to school on time, even though that would be physically impossible. The worst part is is that I wouldn't even be worrying about being late to that class at all, because Hanji is such a laid back teacher, if Marco wasn't there. If he wasn't there I wouldn't be irritated over the fact that I lost probably a good five minutes of quality Marco time before the bell. I know it sounds like I'm angry at him, but I'm not. I'm really just irritated with myself for being so dependent on having Marco there. Apparently, I can't even jerk off without him either.

I pull into the parking lot as one of the final stragglers and once I make it into the building the late bell rings and I hustle to get to class. I end up not looking Marco in the eye once during the entire hour, even when I'm talking to him, or when I smile for him. Basically, the entire day I worry that Marco spontaneously gained the power to read minds and that he could see everything that I had done. The thing is, I kind of wanted him to know. It would have to spare me actually telling him about my feelings. I sigh.

I think it's time I go smash my face against a brick wall.   

 


	2. Christmas Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner POV. Before chapter six in the main.  
> Reiner's antics with getting Bert his Christmas present. A steamy night before Christmas Eve spurs Reiner into giving Bert his secret santa gift a little early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the next chapter for this is way overdue. Sorry I've been busy but I'm free now and was in the mood for some Reibert and I thought it would be fun to write about why exactly Bert was so determined to have Reiner shut up about his Christmas present.

After finding out that I was attracted to a guy I didn't think I'd ever find myself here. I didn't think that lace panties and thigh highs were something I would see Bert in. But I did, it was a wet dream but still. I can't get it out of my head and that has brought me here. At Victoria's Secret. Finding some lingerie for Bert because I'm his secret santa and this would be a great present- although that's kind of an excuse. For a little while I wondered if it was okay to get him something like this, considering our sex life has only been  _living_ for less than a month. We haven't exactly gotten past blow jobs and handies until a week ago either. But I'm pretty sure Bert would be okay with this, I wouldn't be here otherwise.

"Would you hurry up?" Annie grumbles.

" _You're_ supposed to be helping me," I retort. 

"Get him some thigh highs, doesn't everyone have a thigh high fantasy or something?" Annie says a little too loudly for my taste. "And besides, the only reason I'm here is because you were being annoying as all hell."

"I didn't want to look like a creep, walking in here by myself," I say. 

She moves down an aisle after rolling her eyes at me and I follow her anxiously, trying to pull off the bored boyfriend look. "You look constipated," Annie says.

"Thanks," I say sarcastically. 

"Would you calm down? We're just at a store," Annie says.

"A store full of lace bras and panties," I say.

"Please don't say that, that word pisses me off," Annie says.

"What, panties? Why?" I ask.

"It just sounds gross," Annie says. "And it's even more cringe-worthy coming from your mouth," she says. I sigh, ending _that_ conversation. Annie stops in front of a rack of pan- underwear and thongs. She examines a few thongs and picks out a black pair and a hot pink one with black lining. She sticks her fist into the crotch and examines it further.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Measuring," she says and pauses. "How big is his dick?"

I splutter. " _Annie."_

"What? It's an honest question, unless you want your boyfriend's circulation cut off. Now _that_ would be a fun night," she says.

I rub at my temples. "I knew I should have called Mikasa."

"I somehow think that this would make her extremely uncomfortable. Girl's tough but I think this might be too much," she says. "Now, dick size."

I sigh and fight the warmth in my cheeks when I hold my hands apart in a rough estimate of how big Bert is. Annie whistles.

"I guess being tall pays off," she says. She turns back to the silk thongs and looks at a few more sizes before nodding. "This'll work. So what else do you want?"

"What else is there?" I ask. Annie rolls here eyes.

"You should have planned this more," she says. "How about a babydoll? There's bound to be some that match with the thong." 

"What's a babydoll?" I ask. Annie throws her hands up and drags me to another section of the store. She gestures to a mannequin with nightgown-looking thing. Except that is  _far_ too short to be a night gown.

" _This_ is a babydoll," she says.

"Oh," I say. I step forward and examine it. I try to picture Bert in it. He would definitely look hot in this. Although, I don't think there's a lot he  _couldn't_ look hot in. I move to the hot pink one that I think is supposed to match the thong. It looks like it's supposed to match. It's got a nice black bow and the linings are black too, just like the thong. I didn't realize that Annie wandered off but then she's back at my side and taps my back.

"You might want to see this," she says. She leads me to another area of the store, this one a little more secluded than the rest and brings me up to a mannequin. On it is a black garter belt attached to some black thigh highs with a good inch of lace at their ends. The belt is completely open at the bottom and resembles a layered skirt (a very, very,  _very_ short one). I move to the back and at the back of the thigh highs is pink silk thread laced together and tied into a pretty bow at the top. 

"Holy shit," I say.

"Yeah? You like it?" Annie says.

"Fuck yes," I say. "Let's get it."

"One second," Annie says. She disappears, presumably to get a cashier. I examine it a little more and I don't know if I can wait more than a week for Christmas. 

"This one?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

"Yeah, do you have that size?" Annie asks.

I turn and a woman is looking Annie up and down. "Are you sure that's the size you want?"

"Yes," Annie says in a way that leaves no room for question. The woman nods and leaves to look in the back. Annie sighs. "Just cause I'm short."

"Well, Bert _is_ quite a few sizes up," I say. Annie shoots me a look. "Just a few. It's a tiny difference. Wouldn't even be able to tell it was there if you hadn't told me."

Annie rolls her eyes and we wait for the cashier to come back. Annie plays with the different layers of the belt and snaps the straps until the woman comes back.

"It's all ready if you want to come check it out now," the woman says.

Annie and I follow her to cash register. I'm more than a little red-faced as I pay for the thing while Annie puts the thong back. When we leave some people turn their heads as they see me walking out of that store with the red and pink striped bag and the proud gold letters that reveal just where I've come from.

"You look like you're going to melt into the floor, give me the bag," Annie says. She snatches it from my hands and walks a little ahead of me. I let my shoulders relax and grin. Bert is going to look _so_ sexy.

* * *

 I invited Bert over today because my parents are out, again. For the rest of the week actually, they're going to some exotic place for Christmas cause they didn't want to deal with the cold apparently. It's no big deal though, I'll have Bert tonight and I'll be able to wake up to his face on Christmas Eve. He spent the night yesterday and I would have had him stay until now but with my parents gone we've been taking full advantage of the empty house, which has kept him from _his_ house and he decided it would be best to show up and hang out with his overly-worried mother.

There's a knock on the door and I bolt out of my seat. I try not to run to the door and fail miserably. Bert's on the other side once I answer and I smile at him.

"Hello, sexy," I say and stand aside so he can get in. Bert takes his shoes off and I get a nice view of his ass when he bends down. I can't resist and slap it lightly when I walk past. There's a startled yip from Bert and I turn around with a smirk on my face only to be surged by a very tall, and apparently, very horny boyfriend.

"That hand job wasn't enough this morning," Bert says. Kissing me quickly before dragging me to my room. "I've been a horny mess all day."

"I think that slap sent you over the edge," I say, when he throws me on the bed.

" _You_ send me over the edge," Bert says. He whips his shirt off and mounts me, grinding down so hard, I gasp.

"Fuck, Bert," I say. He swallows my words with a deep kiss. He grinds some more and when I meet him with a firm thrust of my hips he moans, low and needy. We scramble to get my shirt off as well and once that shit's gone Bert attacks my neck, nipping and sucking. I groan and move my head to the side, giving him more access. I'm about to let my eyes slip shut when I see the little box that's wrapped and tucked into the corner of my closet. It gives me an idea.

"Bert, do you want to try something new?" I ask.

"If it ends with you fucking me, I'm okay with it," Bert says.

"You're very blunt today," I say. Bert slides off of me and lets me get off the bed.

"I'm very horny today," Bert retorts. I laugh and take the package down from the shelf.

"I got this for you for the secret santa thing. I had a dream and couldn't get this picture of you out of my head," I say and hand over the present. 

"Shouldn't we wait to open this until the party?" he asks.

I rub the back of my neck. "It isn't exactly something that you would want to open in front of a bunch of people anyways. In retrospect I probably should have gotten you another present that was safe to open in front of everyone."

Bert looks at me in confusion and the package with curiosity. Finally he unwraps it, slowly and neatly. When he gets to the box he lifts the lid carefully and takes the contents out. 

"Um, wow," he says when he finally realizes what it is. "I think I know what kind of dream you had now."

"Do you want to wear it? Tonight?" I ask, pushing down the embarrassment that inevitably comes with that question. Bert sets the thigh highs and belt garter down, regarding them a little nervously.

"O-okay," he says eventually.

"You're okay with it?" I ask. I don't want to make him do something he isn't comfortable with.

"Yeah," he says. He meets my eyes before getting up and bringing the lingerie with him. "I'll get changed in the bathroom."

He retreats out of the room and I shed most of my clothes, all except my underwear. I settle on the bed and wait for Bert to come back. After a few more minutes the door to my room creaks open again and Bert steps in.

I think my jaw drops to the floor.

"Holy _shit,"_ I say. The thigh highs are stretched so goddamn perfectly over his calves and thighs. And his hard cock peeks out from underneath the belt and the belt itself hugs his hips so nicely. I feel my dick twitch in my underwear and they get just a little tighter.

"Does it look bad?" Bert says nervously.

"No. No, not at all," I say. Bert smiles but doesn't come in any further. "What's wrong?"

"It's just-," Bert says. "Aren't you supposed to have a little more fun with this?"

"What do you mean?" I ask. I don't really know what more you could do with this other than nearly come in your pants from looking at it.

"L-like a l-lap dance?" Bert says. I blink and open my mouth to reply but Bert's already made it across the room and shuts me up with a kiss. "I've got this. I think."

He moves off the bed and stands there for a moment, looking a little lost and a little nervous, and then he starts moving. It's fluid and I don't know how he's hiding his nervousness so well because I can't detect it all like I usually can. He moves his hands from his chest and downwards, toying with the fringe of the garter belt, before bringing his hands up again. He turns around and smirks at me over his shoulder and leans down before slowly bringing himself up again, popping his ass towards me and I'm suddenly _very_ grateful for the belt not having a bottom.

"Holy shit," I say, quieter this time. Bert does the dip one more time, sending me a little closer to the edge of insanity because I need to touch him,  _now._

As if sensing my need Bert straddles me and rests his arms over my shoulder before doing an  _insane_ roll with his hips. 

"Holy shit," I repeat. I have a feeling everything I'm going to say tonight is just going to be  _holy shit._  

Bert does it a few more times, pressing down on me just a little harder each time. I've placed my hands on his hips and feeling him moving around under them is so _hot._

Then Bert moves so that his back is facing me and _slams_ his ass onto my lap. I moan loudly and my hands move up his sides and I hold him still.

"Bert, fuck, I need to be inside you," I say.

"Oh, yeah?" he asks. He moves down again until I feel the tip of my cock go between his ass cheeks. Yeah, I definitely need this for real. With no stupid underwear in the way.

"Yes," I gasp. I reach over to the night stand and scrabble around until I find the lube and condoms that are there. I quickly rip open the package and roll it on. As I slick myself up with the lube I say. "Now it's time for the _real_ fun."

Bert rolls over and hooks his legs around my waist, bringing me in closer.

"We can fuck with this on if you want," Bert says into my neck.

Yeah, I am _really_ glad this is what I got Bert for Christmas. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you need a visual of what I put Bert in it's [here ](http://www.bodyaware.co.uk/shop/pc/Frilly-Garter-Belt-15p12151.htm). I got rid of the pouch though cause I thought Reiner and Bert might have a little more fun with the open bottom haha.


	3. Christmas Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's Christmas when he was six years old and the Christmas they made the promise that they would set the star on the tree every year, together. Jumping forward to the Christmas that's in the main story, where Jean and his dad put up the star again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last Christmas-y thing! I was spending time with the family all day and thought that I would type this up really quickly before the day ended (although I realize I might be late for some people, sorry). Sorry if it's a little weird I haven't really written in a child's perspective before, hopefully it's not too bad and pleases you guys!

"Jean-bo!" my dad shouts after throwing open the front door.

"Dad!" I shout. I'm happy enough to let that dumb nickname slide. I mispronounced what my dad said whenever he saw me, like, five times! Now it's stuck with me forever. I was just a dumb kid though, I didn't understand that "Jean, boy" was what he was saying. I'm all grown up now though and don't need names like that. But I'll let it go today because dad's finally here.

"I'm home!" he says, swinging me into his arms when I run into him.

"You're late," I say, making my best angry face, although I don't really feel all that angry. Dad told me that it was bad to be late though, especially when other people are expecting you to be on time and mom and I were definitely expecting dad to be on time! 

"Sorry, my son," my dad says and shifts me in his arms. 

"Gerrard?" my mom calls. She looks around the door and smiles really widely. She kind of jogs over to us and hugs dad, squishing me in between them. "I missed you." 

"I missed you too," my dad says and ruffles my hair when he and mom pull away from each other. "Both of you."

"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this job of yours," my mom says. My dad sets me down back on my feet. 

"I've only had it since January," my dad says. "I will quit though if it ever gets in the way of being with you guys."

"No dear, don't quit. You _do_ enjoy traveling so much, I don't want to take that away from you," my mom says. We move into the living room.

"I would enjoy it better if I could take you guys with me sometime," my dad says.

"Someday," my mom says.

I spot the Christmas tree and remember that we're supposed to set the star on it.

"Dad, dad!" I say and tug on his sleeve. "Let's put the star on the tree! It's Christmas tomorrow and we can't have a tree with no star!"

"Oh, it's upstairs in a box, I'll go get it," my mom says. She goes to get the stars, walking quickly. She must be excited to put the star on too.

"You waited until I was home to put the star on?" my dad asks.

"Of course!" I say. How come he's surprised? "We couldn't just put the star on without you. The star is the most important part!"

My dad chuckles. "It is important, you're right."

"Don't put the star on the tree without me and mom either," I say. After all, it's only fair if he waits for  _us_ if we wait for him.

"How about this," my dad says. He kneels so we can look right at each other. "Every year, when I come home for Christmas, we put the star up together."

"Promise?" I say and he nods with a smile. I hold out my pinky. "Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," my dad says. We clasp our pinkies together like a tiny handshake.

My mom was in the room, but I guess I didn't notice.

"Let's start with that promise right now," my mom says. She opens the box and digs in it for a second before she comes out with the golden star that we've used for forever. My mom hands it to me and I hold onto it tightly so it doesn't fall.

My dad lifts me in his arms and holds me up, like in the Lion King.

"I'll hold you up and you can put the star on," my dad says. I grin and put the star on carefully, making sure that I do a good job. "You're really good at this you know," my dad says, bringing me down when I give him a thumbs up, telling him I'm done. I feel pride in my chest cause  _dad think I did a good job._

My dad sets me down and I tug on his sleeve, getting his attention again. "Every year dad, remember!"

"Every year," my dad repeats. He looks back at the star and smiles.

* * *

"You're late," I say. My dad has just come into the door, finally home for Christmas. I scowl but I don't put any real venom behind it. I'm not mad at all. He's home that's what's important. I won't be like I was when I was a stupid freshman and was angry with my dad because he wasn't home all the time. I've grown up and I've learned that it's important to just hold onto the times when he  _is_ home.

My dad smiles and my fake scowl melts off my face to be replaced with a genuine smile. I step forward and hug him tightly.

"Glad you're home, dad," I say. We separate and then my mom is there, bringing the three of us into one giant hug.

"The star is in the box on the couch," she says. "Go on, dinner's almost ready." 

My dad sets his suitcase at the foot of the stairs to bring up later and follows me into the living room. He throws his coat and scarf over the back of one of the armchairs. 

"Ready?" he asks.

I smile. "Of course."

He blinks when he sees the new tree we have this year. "Purple?"

"Purple," I confirm with a laugh.

My mom is sitting on the couch, watching us with a smile.

"I was feeling adventurous this year," she says.

"I like it," my dad says with a pleased nod towards the tree.

"Star's waiting for you," my mom says and pats the box next to her. It's old and sags in a few places, but we still use it. It's the honorary star carrier after all.

My dad smiles and takes the box carefully in his hands, opening it up gently. He takes out the familiar golden star. That thing is so old, I love it.

My dad takes one point of the star and I take one on the opposite side. We stand in front of the tree and lift the star together like we've done since I became too tall to be lifted by my dad and could actually reach the top myself.

We fit it on together and step back once it's securely on.

"Looks good," my dad says. I lift my hand in a fist, waiting for my dad to fist-bump me. He does and we smile at each other.

"Ma, can we eat now?" I ask, turning to my mom who's looking fondly at the two of us.

"Still a little time left," my mom says. "You'll just have to wait."

I groan. "But I'm so hungry."

"Go make some hot chocolate," my mom says.

"That won't fill me up," I whine.

"Jean, you are a senior in high school, I think you're more than capable of waiting fifteen minutes for dinner with only a cup of hot chocolate," my mom says.

"Come on," my dad says. "Hot chocolate _does_ sound good."

I follow him into the kitchen.

Every year we put up that star together. Every year I find myself looking forward to that moment where our hands are holding both of those points on the star and lifting it together. I hope to do this every year for the rest of my life.   

 

 


	4. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare that Marco had before he called Jean in chapter 9.  
> Marco's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry I haven't been updating this. I grossly overestimated the amount of free time I would have once school started up again. But now that the main story is over I can actually work on this one! I'm going to update this regularly but I'm not going to have days that I update like in the main. I have a lot of schoolwork and I don't want to disappoint anyone if I have to miss a few days. But they're fairly short and I don't really see any getting longer than 1,000 and some words so you might see multiple ones every week.  
> Yay, I'm excited to get back to these xD.  
> They're going to be a lot happier after this one. I'm really sorry that I took this off hiatus with an angsty chapter, but it's been brewing in the back of my mind for a while.

I reach out and grab the cuff of his sleeve, tugging on it gently. 

"Jean," I say. He turns back towards me with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Marco," he says. His smirk is one that doesn't quite fit his face, one that seems to come from another person. Such as this moment seems familiar, but I'm not so sure that it was one that I shared with Jean.

There's also some type of fear clutching at my stomach that makes me hesitant to step forward and towards Jean. This fear, along with the background painted around us is familiar. Painfully so but I'm not deterred from reaching out towards Jean. The overwhelming sense of wanting to kiss him comes over me, like it always does when I look into his eyes like this and when he smiles at me like that.  But something about this moment feels  _wrong_. 

"I really want to kiss you," I say. The words are familiar and this situation is familiar. Why can't I place it?

Jean's smile drops and he looks around nervously, as if he's  _afraid_ to kiss me. But that's not right. Jean's never been afraid to kiss me in public. Maybe it's that we're in front of his house? But he's out to his parents now, so why?

I flick my eyes to his place and something in the back of my mind is telling me that that's not Jean's house. It's someone else's. But that's absurd because Jean was just about to go inside of that house. 

For a moment it seems to blur and I move my attention back to Jean.

Jean bites his lip and tosses more glances down the streets.

"Yeah, okay," he says eventually. He offers me a small, tentative, nervous smile and leans forward.

I step into him and tilt my head. I don't remember having to tilt my head down this much to kiss Jean. He's very close to my height, but now he's an inch shorter.

I push that to the back of my mind and tilt my head, deepening the kiss. 

His arms snake around my waist and my hands cup his face. His face feels different as well, not Jean's. I can't seem to open my eyes to check though. 

I peck his lips a few more times, not able to hold back the giggle that bubbles from my lips. He smiles a little bit as well, but I can tell that his nervousness hasn't gone away. He keeps peaking out of the corner of his eye. He does this a few more times, before kissing me again.

I should feel happy with kissing Jean. I should be. So why aren't I? Why am I terrified?

"Look at these faggots," a voice says from around the corner.

Jean and I gasp and spring apart.

An overwhelming sense of dread grips my heart and stops my breathing. I glance at Jean, making sure he's okay. He looks afraid when he sees the guys coming towards us, but his fear heightens when he takes a look at me. As if  _I'm_ the one that he should be afraid of.

This isn't right. Of course we'd both be afraid in an event like this. Someone calls us a name in a hateful tone, obviously we're going to be afraid. But Jean, he's looking at me as if  _I'm_ the threat. It makes me want to run away, to throw myself under my covers and cry.

It's someone else. Jean would never look at me that way. He wouldn't. I  _know_ he wouldn't. So why is he? _  
_

But then there's that nagging voice in the back of my mind that's telling me that I've seen this expression before but not on Jean's face.

Someone spits and the wad of saliva lands at our feet.

"We knew you were fucking disgusting like that," one of them says. "But I didn't think Thomas would be dragged into your shit."

Thomas?

I flick my eyes to their faces but it's like I can't entirely see them. Like their faces are shrouded in shadows. Considering how dark tonight is I suppose it  _could_ be hard to see their faces.

But it's like a memory of someone I can't quite remember. These faces seem to be just beyond my reach, something stuffed deep in my mind. And the shadows make it seem like I don't want to remember them, for whatever reason. I mean, I know they're being assholes right now, but it's not like they've done anything to physically harm us.

I take a step back. Despite my thoughts racing to stuff down the pure terror running hot through my veins, I can't seem to shake it. There can be a logical explanation. Not everyone likes gay people. But that doesn't mean that they'd harm us. That's too drastic, too scary of a thought to even comprehend. Why would people do that?

They crowd around us and I take a step towards Jean, looking for some type of reassurance. I bump into his shoulder but it does nothing to alleviate the turmoil that's going on inside of me. The white hot fear that makes my body shake and refuses to let my breath escape and refill my lungs doesn't seem to become less intense.

Then one of them springs forward and out of reflex I push Jean out of the way. He lands on the ground with a heavy thud and a puff of breath before scrambling to stand up again.

I put myself between them and Jean. They laugh at me.

"Trying to protect your boyfriend?" they jeer.

"We're just going to send him to hell a little early," another says.

I take another step back, reaching my hand behind me and searching for Jean. Trying to see that he was okay.

With the way I'm positioned I can see all three of them. My eyes keep drifting to one of them in particular. Like I'm expecting him to do something, something worse than the others would do.

It's when I blink that it happens.

I see him dart past me with inhuman speed, shoving me roughly to the side. My head can't seem to turn fast enough and I feel like I'm stuck in slow motion, watching him zoom past me. Towards Jean.

I shout his name. At least I try to. But nothing comes from my mouth, I can't even open my lips.

The only thing I can do is watch as the guy darts past me, removing a glinting object from his coat.

I know I'm supposed to move here. I know I'm supposed to run into Jean and shove him with everything I've got. He's supposed to fall to the ground and I'm supposed to stand there and take it instead of him.

But none of that happens and I stand, rooted to the spot as I watch the object disappear into Jean's chest.

Then everything dissolves away and I'm kneeling next to Jean, holding his limp body to my chest.

"It was supposed to happen to me," I say. I scream his name and cry loudly. " _It was supposed to happen to me."_

* * *

I open my eyes to a cold house. An empty one. No one is here and my body is shaking and I want to lift my head and look outside, make sure that there's no one out there but I can't. I'm too scared.

I scrabble for my phone. I know it was a dream now. A nightmare. But I have to make sure Jean's safe.

What I saw was my worst fear. I couldn't save Jean. It wasn't the first time that memory has sprouted up in the form of nightmare but it's usually Thomas that was in them and myself just reliving it. It goes down exactly as it did in real life.

That boy ran past me just the same. Except instead of being rooted to the spot I managed to take action.

Usually I would wake up as I saw the knife connect with my body. I wouldn't feel anything but I would wake up in a cold sweat, clutching onto my scar as if I really was in pain.

I would rather take a thousand of those mornings, those nightmares in exchange for never having the nightmare I just had again.

I shakily press the phone to my ear as I dial Jean's number. I almost hang up. I don't know what time it is but it must be late.

I shouldn't bother him it's not real. It's not real. God, I hope it's not real.

"Hello, my angel," Jean's groggy voice carries over the line and a flood of relief washes over me. But it's short lived because this is only his voice.

"Jean," I whimper. I must sound so pathetic.

"Marco? What's wrong?" Jean asks. There's rustling on the other end and the panic in Jean's voice is clear.

I open my mouth. I should apologize. It's late. It's late and I shouldn't be so shaken over a stupid nightmare. It's nothing I haven't dealt with alone. It's nothing.

But I want him to be here. I want him to hold me and tell me that everything's alright. That he'll be alright. I want him to reassure me that he's alive and tangible and that I have nothing to fear. I want to  _tell_ someone about this. I don't want to carry this alone anymore. And he shouldn't have to be in the dark about how fucked up his boyfriend is.

"Can you come over?" 

 

 


	5. Movies and Fountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reibert's first date for a belated Valentine's Day!  
> Reiner POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to knock out Springle's and Yumikuri's first dates after this one as well because I love them as much as these two dorks and have been dying to write them out.  
> And just in case the timeline confuses anyone this would have taken place around August last year!

It took a little while to get here.

Two months to be exact.

First there was the denial, in which I thought there was absolutely  _no way_ that I was gay for my  _best friend_. After a handful of masturbation sessions and less than appropriate thoughts I finally came around to the idea that I might be  _a little_ homo for Bert. Well after that was actually dealing with the crush and then invasive thoughts of  _but he's never shown interest in guys before... or anyone really._ And then there was some more angsting on my part.

Around this time Bert started acting weird around me as well, and being the dumb ass that I am I thought he had caught on to my feelings and just didn't want to seem rude. So then I did some prodding to see if he actually  _did_ know. After a while it didn't really seem so. I flirted with him to see how he would react and soon enough it became less of an investigation about how much he knew about my little crush and more about how much flirting and touching I could get away with.

At this point I knew I was in deep. Really deep. After some sleepless nights I came to the conclusion that I might have subconsciously been trying to gauge Bert's interest levels. And after  _even more_ sleepless nights I found that Bert's interest levels could potentially be  _really high_. 

So in a very stuttery, sweaty, and over all Bert-like fashion, I asked him out.

So, two months, a lot of incessant hormones, and angsting later we are going on our first date. Because it turns out that when Bert was acting weird around me he was also hiding a little crush and I was dumb and didn't realize until he said so a week ago, when I asked him out. And when he also said yes. 

Now we're standing in line, waiting for some tickets to go and see  _Guardians of the Galaxy._  

Neither of us have seen it and I thought it would be fun to see it together.

It's kind of awkward right now, due to neither of us really knowing how to act around each other at this point. I was just going to treat it like any other day out but now that we're actually here I'm thinking that maybe I should treat it as something a little more special? 

I think I'll take a step back for a little while. There are a lot of people in line with us as well and I don't want to make Bert nervous or anything by making a grab at his hand or kissing his cheek or something.

A little bit of time passes and I'm surprised to find something slip into my hand. It takes a moment for me to register that that is in fact,  _Bert's hand_. 

I bite the absolutely dorky smile that threatens to take over my face. But I still squeeze his hand as a little reassurance that this is  _definitely_ okay. 

I shuffle a little closer to him and we continue to wait in line, feeling a little more comfortable like this with each second that slips by.

I buy us the tickets and we split the money that we buy our drinks with.

Finally we're sitting in our cushy theater chairs with our hands firmly clasped together. I shift my hand a little bit to make it a little more comfortable and end up slipping my fingers in between Bert's.

It's comfortable here like this. Sitting in this dark theater, holding my best friend's hand. It feels right. His long fingers extend down the back of my hand and after some time begin to idly shift around, not out of nervousness, I think just to _feel._ And I start doing that too, loving the way that his slightly rough skinned hand feels underneath my fingertips. 

I flick my eyes to the side and watch him for a little while. He seems to be holding a mild interest in the trailers playing on the screen, although I really can't be bothered to pay attention to them at the moment, not with Bert beside me like this. Along with our hands clasped together the entirety of our arms are pressed up against each other comfortably.

I shift, just enough that the feeling of his arm is very obvious.

I don't really have an overwhelming desire to kiss him yet. This is comfortable. This is good.

And so the movie begins and we sip at our drinks and make sure that our hands don't leave each other at all. About half way through Bert drops his head on to my shoulder. I just about nearly die with the sheer amount of happiness that comes with that moment. But then I become stuck with an internal battle of whether or not I should move my hand and start stroking his hair or if I should just keep our fingers laced together.

Ultimately, the hand holding one wins. Mostly because some explosions happened and I forgot about it.

The rest of the movie was great. With the great movie and action scenes and the comedy. But mostly hearing Bert laugh softly, the sound amplified because he was right next to my ear. And the weight of his head on my shoulder. And the feeling of his hand in mine. And just being there with him, to be honest.

We stuck around for the after-credits because, come on, this was a Marvel movie and were rewarded with a dancing Groot that put a cute smile on Bert's face.

On the way out we trashed our cups and drifted off to one of the side exits. We stood there for a little while, building up the courage to look each other in the eyes while our fingers were still twined together. Bert started fidgeting and I moved a bit closer to him, finally looking at his face.

"So, now what do you want to do?" I ask. "It's only eight, we still have a while."

"I-I'm not sure, whatever you want to do, I guess," Bert says, shooting me a shaky smile.

I'm not entirely sure. Although, I _did_ see a pretty awesome fountain when I was making my way over here. I think it plays music at certain times, maybe we can go over there and check it out. 

"Do you want to check out that giant fountain?" I ask.

Bert nods. "I've never actually been up close to it with as many times as I've seen it before."

I smile and lead us towards the giant fountain.

Once there it isn't a disappointment. It's lit up in different colors, playing some kind of soft classical music from the speakers hidden around it.

"R-Reiner?" Bert asks.

"Hm?" I answer, turning my attention away from the water cascading down from the top tier of the fountain.

"W-when exactly did you -uh- start w-wanting to date me?" Bert says, flicking his eyes around.

"A little more than two months ago," I answer. "Why?"

"I was just curious, I guess," Bert says, turning away.

I let a moment of silence tick by before speaking again. "What about you?"

"I-I think a month ago," Bert answers.

"Really?" I ask. "I could have asked you out a month ago? Man, that information would have allowed me to sleep a lot more."

"Yeah," Bert agrees. Silence again, then. "S-so what made you realize it?"

I shrug. "There wasn't a single moment where I was hit with the truth. It all just kind of built up until I couldn't ignore it anymore."

"For me it was when you were laughing," Bert says. "I don't know. I've heard you laugh a million times before but it really hit me after you told a really lame joke and laughed really hard about it for nearly five minutes afterwards. I really couldn't say what was different about that laugh, but I guess it was enough to send me spiraling down into a massive crush." 

"So that would be why you would flirt back," I ponder.

Bert laughs. "I thought you were an unsuspecting straight guy so I wasn't nearly as nervous as I would have been normally."

"That's what threw me off for a long time," I say. "I thought if you were seriously flirting you would be a stuttering mess, but you were really calm about it."

"Your  _actual_ flirting confused me," Bert says. "Again, I thought you were straight and didn't get this whole thing. I thought you might have thought pretending to be gay was funny." 

"Nah," I say. "I was testing how you would respond if I came on to you."

"Did I pass?" Bert asks in amusement. I lift his hand and kiss a knuckle.

"With flying colors," I answer. He laughs again. I think I like his laugh as much as he seems to like mine. Maybe if I hadn't jerked off to his face so much I would have discovered my crush on him because of his laugh too.

The rest of the evening passed relatively normally. We wandered around the mall some more, jumping in and out of shops that interested us but not buying anything. We  _did_  make a stop and got ice cream though. It was really no different than a night out for us except for the fact that we were holding hands and once I daringly went in for a kiss on Bert's cheek. And there was a lot more blushing on Bert's part... and maybe mine too.

The night passed way too quickly for both of us and we soon had to leave before curfew came about. I walked Bert back to his mom's car which he borrowed for tonight and we stood outside of it a little awkwardly, much like we did in the movie theater.

I don't really say anything, I just look at Bert and he looks back and I move in for a kiss.

It's a complete and utter failure. My nose hits his before our lips can even brush and we back away cupping our noses with one hand. 

"Well that was brilliant," I say and chuckle along with Bert.

After our little giggle-fest is over we try one more time. This is a little more successful. 

We actually  _kiss_ each other. And it's fuckin' great. 

His lips are soft against mine, a little stiff but it's good nonetheless. He moves with me in perfect sync. And when I suck on his bottom lip the little sound he makes could make my soul ascend straight to heaven.

We pull away from each other a little breathless and  _really_ friggin happy. 

"W-we're going to this again, right?" Bert asks hopefully.

I grin. "Hell yes." 

He kisses me once more before unlocking his car door and waving.

"Thank you for tonight," he says. I smile and wave and watch him pull out of the parking space.

I think I stand there like an idiot for far longer than I probably should have, before gathering myself enough to skip to my car.

 _Definitely_ , going to be doing that again.  

 

 


	6. A Good Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha and Connie's first date!  
> Sasha POV

We have been best friends for a _really_ long time. We met in middle school when he threw something at me and Jean forced him to apologize. After that day we became really close.

I didn't really expect myself to get a crush on him. Boys were kind of a foreign concept, all I wanted really was just to have some fun. I didn't really see the possibility of having fun with a boyfriend. Not with the stereotypical date floating around in my head. I thought I'd have to wear a dress and make-up a lot. I guess it was a little immature of me to see it like that because now, on my first date, we're going to an arcade and aren't at all dressed in uncomfortable clothing. Although I  _di_ _d_ try not to wear my ratty sweater that I tend to have with me a lot when I go out. Connie put a little more effort into his wardrobe too. He's actually wearing cologne, which is a rarity. He usually just puts on some deodorant and heads out the door. 

I suppose this _is_ a special occasion if it's brought Connie to wearing cologne.

"Sasha?" Connie asks. "What are you grinning about?"

"Well I just thought it was awesome that you were wearing cologne," I tease.

"I-it's not anything special," he mumbles.

"Uh-huh," I say. "I think it's nice."

"Really?" he asks, a cute spark of pride lighting in his eyes.

"It smells good," I confirm. "Better than any french fries I've had."

Connie laughs. "Am I only better smelling than a large order of Mcdonald's french fries?"

"Of course!" I chirp. 

We both laugh.

Finally, after a little more driving we arrive at the arcade. It's a nice place and it isn't the first time we've gone here together. But it feels like it for sure. I think maybe because this is an actual  _date._ It's weird how labels make this meet-up a little different. Any normal day we would have just said we were hanging out, but now it's a  _date_ and it feels a little different. Which is kinda weird. But a good weird. 

"Let's kick some ass in laser tag," Connie says when we tumble out of his truck. He's grinning wickedly, a gleam in his eye that comes about only when he's planning how he's going to hand someone's ass to them during laser tag.

"That sounds perfect," I say, mimicking his grin. We fist bump and head inside to pay for ourselves and finally get around to the ass kicking we were promising.

We have to wait in line for a little while and we filled that time with idle chatter. Mostly, we brag about how good our aim is and the sheer amount of people we plan to take out. So by the time we finally make it into the little room where we put on our vests and choose our teams we're thoroughly _pumped._

Our team is pretty... special. It's really something that you'd see in a movie full of underdogs expected to save the world or something. We've got a really scrawny, nerdy looking kid and his father who looks kind of bored and then we have a couple who can't seem to stop making eyes at each other. To be honest they remind me of Ymir and Christa. God help me if I ever have to see any more of my friends make those faces some day. I think I'd go insane. Romance has never really been my thing. 

I glance at Connie from the corner of my eye, his small movements of bouncing on the balls of his feet catching my eye. Maybe I won't feel that way someday.

We're finally released into the small, dark room that is our battlefield. Connie and I are familiar enough with this place to automatically know where we would both like to start at. Due to our particular base, Connie will go to the outer right of the ring and I'll go to the opposite side. From there we're going to take out whoever gets in our way and meet in the middle. And then we're going to take some points for our team together by getting to the enemy's base and shooting a little circle that glows the color red, the color of the enemy.

Connie and I set ourselves up quickly, before the starting bell even rings. So when I get to my spot I grin in anticipation of how awesome we're going to be.

When the bell finally does ring I take off, crouching low and suddenly envying how short Connie is. He could easily slip between one piece of glowing cover to the other.

Someone from the opposite team peaks from around a pillar and I aim and fire. Boom. Right on target. His jacket flashes, signaling that he was out until he got back to his base and he threw his hands in the air. As he stormed off I heard some more gun shots from the other end of the room and smile, knowing Connie is there. He's good at this game, so I'm not too worried about him. He can fight for himself. 

I dodge and weave my way to the center quickly, only having to pick off one more person before I get to Connie and I's appointed meeting spot. It's a warped, wall-like structure right on the outskirts of their base. It's perfect. And Connie is already waiting for me, peaking around the edge of the cover, gun poised to fire. I slip next to him, feeling like we're spies in a movie.

"Ready, Sash?" he says, that wicked grin back on his face.

"I was born ready," I say and whoop excitedly. We break cover after my giving our position away. We aren't phased though by the other people in the form of shadows drifting into our line of fire. We take them out together, and even though this is all very fake and we know it, especially with the stereotypical looking stars dotted on the walls and ceiling, adrenaline pumps through our veins. 

It's amazing especially since we seem to float through the room and to the other side before we even realize. The circle that we're supposed to shoot at is there and we smile at each other.

"You can have the honors," Connie says and motions with his gun.

"You get the next one then," I say, aiming and shooting at the circle. This causes the entirety of the enemy team to have to come back and we hear a collective groan go through the small room as everyone trudges back to their base. Connie and I sneak away, giggling over our victory.

And we rack up points like this, sneaking our way through the room, changing our route every time we get caught. There isn't much verbal communication on our part, we just know what the other's thinking without much prompting. That's what makes us the perfect duo for this sort of game and what makes us come out on top when the lights finally come on and the points are displayed on the screen at our home base.

Connie and I high five, shouting happily and congratulating each other.

We come out of the room grinning as we hang up our vests.

"Wanna shoot some zombies?" Connie asks, gesturing towards the actual arcade part of the place, away from the laser tag section.

"Duh," I say and we link arms together as we skip towards our favorite shooting game in this entire place. We probably spend a good while there. It's free today due to this awesome deal that they have. All the games are free to play, except for the ones that give out tickets, which means we can die and revive ourselves as many times as we want. Not that we died a lot, we're too awesome for that to happen.

When we finally tire of that game we move on to others. We race against each other in a NASCAR game. I come out in first place in that one, which isn't any surprise considering Connie just barely passed his driver's test when he took it. And we hop onto other first person shooters, dominating any zombies or aliens that throw themselves at us.

We even go back to laser tag a couple more times. Of course, we win each time. Because we're just that great. And when we get hungry for dinner we move to the food court, where we each get a couple slices of pizza. We probably would have gotten more if not for the pizza being so expensive. Geez, we can seriously get a whole pie some place else for less than it costs the both of us to eat a couple of slices here.  

But I guess it was worth it because the pizza _is_ pretty awesome. And we get some quality time to talk. We don't talk about topics that we don't usually talk about though. Nothing like that. However it does feel a little more... intimate I guess? I'm not entirely sure. I'm guessing sometimes things'll get weird. But that doesn't mean that it's bad by any means.

When we're finally done Connie stands and holds his hand out to me.

"Ready for one more round of whoop ass before we have to leave?" he asks.

I smile and take his hand. "Let's go!"

He springs me onto my feet and we race over the laser tag place one more time.

Of course in the dark we're the best predators to ever grace this place with their presence. So by the time we get out again we've come out on top. Definitely feeling like winners.

We're laughing on our way outside where it's begun getting dark without us even noticing.

The drive to my house is filled with animated talk about our experiences in laser tag. And sometimes we reminisce about other times that we've visited. Recounting things that seemed to occur again, like having a weird, yet good team of people on our side that help us a lot with winning. It's a good talk, a good time.

When we finally pull up to my house I grin at Connie. "Fun as always, Connie."

"Ditto," Connie replies.

We move to give each other a hug, just as we always do after we hang out together and have to depart. But this time I decide to add a little twist at the end of our hug.

I give him a chaste kiss, lingering for a moment before pulling away and scooting out of his truck.

"Bye, Connie!" I say cheerfully and wave at him before closing the door. Just before the door covered my line of sight I saw Connie sitting there, frozen in place grinning from ear to ear like a _complete_ idiot. It's cute though.

And I do feel a little weird about kissing my best friend. But it's a good weird. Definitely a good weird. 

 

 


	7. New Items on my Bucket List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir and Christa's turn for first date time!  
> Ymir POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm sorry for not updating, and I swear to you this will be the last time I will say that. I just kinda fell out of love with this thing and started hating it so I decided to take a break and work on something else. Apparently that worked cause I'm back in full swing! I'm sorry for being so sucky about writing this :/

We haven't known each other for very long. We just met earlier in the week in fact, at the beginning of our first year in high school. Immediately I thought Christa was  _really_ sexy and cute, all at once somehow, and I asked her out. Lucky for me, she isn't straight either. Both of us are hella gay and that is hella amazing because I am taking her out, on an actual date. 

I feel kind of lame getting so excited over something like this, when I never would have before. But Christa is just so- so fucking perfect that I can't really help it. Now that that's out of the way I can get to the part about us actually getting down to a nice-ass restaurant that I found. Well, to be honest it's a fast food restaurant but a damn good one. And Christa and I are standing right in line at the moment, after being dropped off by my  _darling_ big brother; whom I had to pay five bucks to drive us here. But that hardly matters because I'm with Christa and our hands keep brushing as we decide what we want to order.

When we reach the counter we quickly give out what we want. I order just a plain old cheeseburger with some ketchup and mustard and a soda but Christa, for being such a small girl, orders a large double bacon cheeseburger and chocolate milk shake. Only after she turns to me and asks if it's alright that she's ordering so much since I'm paying for it all. Of course, I couldn't look into those beautiful blue eyes and say no. 

Now we're sitting in a booth, both taking tentative bites from our burgers in our first date awkwardness. There are topics of conversation that I can turn to 'cause we haven't known each other for that long, right?

"So, how are things?" I ask. Fucking smooth.

Christa smiles brightly, swallowing her food before answering. "They're really good! How about you?"

"Things are really good, now that I'm on a date with you," I answer. That's a lot better.

Christa blushes and bobs her head down adorably for a moment before meeting my eyes again. She giggles a little bit and turns back to her burger, practically burying her face into the thing to hide her growing blush. I can't really help the small smile that makes its way onto my lips, she's just too cute. If anyone else were in my place, looking at this little goddess of perfection, they would totally understand.

"Are you feeling good about this year?" I ask, moving the topic, hoping that she would feel less awkward. Even though she looks amazing with that pink tinging her cheeks I would rather not have her feeling uncomfortable. So, obviously the new school year would be the next obvious choice for small talk. 

She smirks at me, just a small tilt of her mouth that would give me a boner if I had a dick. "I think this year will be _amazing."_

I really need to get her to flirt more some time. On my bucket list: get Christa to do sexy things for the rest of my life.

I lean forward on the table and smile at her as well, trying to replicate a really sexy one I saw a girl in a movie do. "Oh yeah? What makes you think so?"

She places her elbows on the table and shifts her weight there. "Just an intuition."

I hum. "I think I would really like to see your theory in action."

Christa smiles and pulls away, her flirty demeanor gone, replaced by her normal innocent one. "I hope so! I'd really love to get to know you more!"

God help me if she's the sadistic type wrapped in a cute little body.

I smile at her one more time before returning to my burger, hoping that she's enjoying her time with me as much as I'm enjoying my time with her. 

I try to catch her eye some more but she avoids my gaze each time, with a quick flick of her eyes and a light dusting of pink over her cheeks. It's really endearing to say the least.

We eat slowly. I'm really fucking slow because I really don't want to have to go yet. My brother said he was going to pick me up after two hours here so I'm kind of procrastinating finishing my food because if things get awkward I can always have a burger to hide behind. But as we get further into our little date I find that possibility less and less likely. It just seems like it's not going to go badly. I don't think either of us are going to crash and burn on this date. This actually might last a while.

The conversation is easy and the food is good. Christa's eyes and her smile are bright and totally light up everything around her, even when we're already in a fairly cheerful environment. Normally having someone as happy-go-lucky as Christa anywhere near me would piss me off but something about her  _doesn't_ annoy me. Maybe because it doesn't seem like a forced cheerfulness that I witness so often. It's genuine, like she truly thinks the best of the world.

It's really amazing. _She's_ really amazing.

I would call this an extreme success because by the time we've finished our burgers we're laughing and talking easily, like we've known each other for years. When we push our trays to the side so we can lean over the table, closer to each other I grab her hand and it rests there, on top of hers until my brother comes around early and totally ruins everything.

I mean, he's only five minutes early but still, that's five minutes too many. I could have used that time to hear Christa's small laugh again and looked at her cute face some more.

To be honest, I probably would have ignored his car idling in front of the window we were sitting in front of if he hadn't called me. I even ignored his first call until the buzzing in my pocket became even more annoying and he stepped out of his car, glaring at me through the window. Damn it.

"Ah, my ride's here," I say begrudgingly. I glance out the window at my very unhappy looking brother and gesture at Christa, and hold up a finger, telling him to give me a minute.

He rolls his eyes but crawls back into his car once again.

Christa giggles as she watches our exchange.

"It's alright," Christa says and stands, taking a hold of her tray. I follow her lead and together we dump our trash and stack our trays. Christa turns to me at the exit and says quietly. "I really loved going out with you today."

"Me too," I say, my voice a little softer than it usually is. "We can go on another date sometime, yeah?"

Christa nods her head enthusiastically, flashing another blinding smile. "Yeah!"

I smile at her, wider than I've smiled at anyone in a long time actually. Not because I'm miserable or anything, just because I really haven't been this interested in a person _ever._  

"See you later then," I say awkwardly.

"Oh, wait," Christa says. I stop my less than elegant exit and wait for her to continue patiently. She rises on the tips of her toes and kisses me sweetly.

Her lips are really damn soft, wow. Kissing her feels really nice. That would be another thing to add to my bucket list: get Christa to kiss me for the rest of my life.

"B-bye," I say, stumbling backwards and outside. Christa waves at me, giggling quietly to herself as she watches me go. 

I wave to her through the glass door and walk like a drunk back to my brother's car.

Another thing to add to my bucket list: get Christa to marry me. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the things they said this chapter made me cringe but, hey, they're right out of middle school I have yet to meet a single person who doesn't regret everything they did or said or at that age.


	8. The Epic Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean tells Marco the story of the infamous cook-off that took place in his kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for not updating this fic. There's really no excuse other than I was super bored with the universe and wanted to do other things. Also finals last month, ew. I don't know how many of you are still actually keeping track of this, but hey, if you're still with me you're fuckin' beautiful and I am really sorry ;-; I thought it was time to finish this baby up though, before I get distracted with another jeanmarco thing I'm going to start posting  
> (Also, I forgot about how sappy I made Jean oh my god I needed to dial it down.)

Marco and I lounge in my room. It's a leisurely day and neither of us have any homework. And it's the weekend so it's not like there's going to be schoolwork we'd willingly do anyway. We're not talking really, we're just content with being with each other at the moment. Marco is the first one to break the silence, in his soft, beautiful voice.  

"Tell me more about that cook-off that you brought up," Marco says.

He's playing with my hair, curled against my side.

"Why?" I ask.

He shrugs as best he can while lying down. "I'm curious, does there have to be a profound reason?"

I chuckle and turn around until I'm lying on my side beside him. We wrap our arms around each other and settle in what I'm finding is our usual cuddle position.

"Alright," I say. My breath puffs over his hair, making it flutter a little bit and tickle my nose. Obviously, the best solution to this is to is bury my face even more into his soft hair. "I'll start with the fact that Sasha came in with a fucking ten ounce steak."

Marco laughs and shifts around until he's more comfortable.

So, with Marco in my arms and the smell of his shampoo strong in my nose, I recount the story of the epic battle that took place in the form of a cook-off.

* * *

Sasha and Connie had come to my house that weekend, looking for food. As per usual.

"Why do you always come here for food?" I asked.

"Because there's always food here, good food," Connie said dreamily.

"And you don't have any good food at your own house?" I continued.

"We have good food, just not as much," Sasha said. She sifted through my cabinets, still on the hunt for sustenance. She gave a victorious cry and revealed a bag of chips.

"You should really learn how to cook. Then you'd probably have some more things to eat other than junk food," I said.

"But junk food is the best," Sasha said, unrolling the bag as she spoke. Connie stole it from her before she could get far with her task.

I rolled my eyes. "You just can't cook can you?" 

Sasha spluttered and looked at me like I had just called her the dirtiest name I could ever utter. She even forget about retrieving her spoils. 

"Jean," she said in a low voice that, frankly, scared the shit out of me. "Did you just say that I couldn't cook?"

Unfortunately, I was very fucking stupid so of course, I stood up straighter and nodded.

Sasha looked me over, with a calculating, terrifying gaze. 

"Alright," she said. "If that's what you think then I'll just have to prove you wrong."

I snorted. "How are you going to do that."

She raised her nose, crossed her arms and said in a booming voice. "Jean Kirschtein, I challenge you to a cook-off." 

I blinked at her for the longest time, trying to process the information. "A cook-off?"

"A  _cook-off,"_  Sasha said with determination. I remember that at that moment I felt like I might have been on a fucking TV show. This sort of thing didn't happen in real life, cook-offs didn't actually happen in real life. Yet there I was, being challenged to one.

Of course, I couldn't stand down. My pride wouldn't let me and I would  _not_  back down because of the likes of Sasha Braus. 

I stood up tall, copied Sasha's stance and nodded gravely. "Fine. I accept your challenge."

Connie stuffed potato chips in his face like it was popcorn.

Sasha smiled wickedly. "Good. Gather a team. We meet exactly one week from now. At dawn."

I watched her go as she turned and marched out of the kitchen, Connie trailed behind her with a handful of chips still in his hands. I heard the front door open and Sasha shouted back.

"We're not meeting at dawn, by the way, that's  _way_  too early," Sasha said.

"Yeah, let's try for, like, three in the afternoon I'm sure I'd be awake by then," I shouted back.

"Okay, see you later," she said cheerily and left.

For the next week I gathered my team and went shopping for supplies. I called Ymir, who yelled at me for wanting her to participate in "such dumb-assery." Then I called Armin who was too nice to say no to the dumb-assery. I called Christa, who was busy with Ymir (I didn't ask for further details) and then I called Reiner. He was a traitor, he had already joined Sasha's team, the bastard. So that ruled out him and Bert because I was pretty sure Bert joining my team would be an even worse betrayal in their book. Connie was with Sasha as well, I didn't even need to call to know that. Eren told me to fuck off and I didn't bother with Mikasa because I was still licking my wounds over her saying she wasn't interested in me romantically.

The only option left was the queen of intimidation herself, Annie.

I didn't even have her number and had to acquire it through Reiner. And when I finally mustered up enough feeble courage to call her and ask her to be on my team she only sighed and said in a really bored voice, "Alright, fine."

It honestly wasn't that bad. In retrospect, I should probably speak to her more often, she's pretty cool.

Praise aside, the day of the battle was drawing close and I still had no idea what the fuck I was going to do. So I ended up going to the store with Armin and Annie in tow, so we could decide what our dish would be. It was supposed to be a short trip, we were going to look at what they had to offer and see if anything would jump out at us. And it finally came upon us, like an angel from the sky, when we were in the meats aisle.

We would make the world's most amazing steak.

Armin and I chattered excitedly about what we could do with the meat while Annie browsed quietly beside us. But our dreams were shattered when our adversary descended upon us.

She was humming, as if the fate of her reputation as a cook didn't ride on this competition. And she was also looking at the steaks. Connie and Reiner trailed behind her. Reiner didn't look as if he was particularly enjoying himself, but there was a bruise on his cheek that made me wonder if he was forced into things. He told me later that Sasha elbowed him in the face when he said that the cook-off kind of sounded like a dumb idea. He joined her team out of guilt and fear.

Sasha looked up and made eye contact with me. Then she smirked evilly and sauntered up to our little group. "Well, look who's here."

She was like a woman possessed. Despite her nonchalant pose she was in it to win, I could tell.

"What are you doing here?" I asked wearily.

She smiled and gestured towards the steaks. "I'm looking for ingredients. I'm going to make the best steak known to man kind. Also, I call it!"

"You can't just call a dish!" I argued.

"Oh, yes you can. And I just called the steak," she said. Fake innocence was all over her face. I threw my hands up anyways, not really in the mood to argue with her, especially when she was scaring me so spectacularly.

"Fine, you can make the damn steak."

"Great!" she cheered, clapping her hands together. "Run along now, you have no business here. This is my kingdom now!"

I rolled my eyes but retreated with the rest of my group.

We decided to call it quits for the day and returned to our respective homes to try and come up with the perfect meal. It didn't dawn on me until the day before our competition. I felt as if all hope was lost, that is, until my mom called me down for breakfast. Lucky for me, she chose that day to make an omelette. But not just any omelette, the omelette that I had held so dearly to my heart since I was a child.

At that moment, as I took the first bite I realized one thing: this omelette would be my winning dish.

The day of the competition arrived and Sasha came flouncing into my kitchen with all the ingredients necessary for the battle. This is when I caught sight of the infamous ten ounce steak. She didn't divulge any of her secrets about how she even got it. Reiner and Connie didn't even know. So with the mysterious meat she began to cook.

We had agreed that we would all use the kitchen in my house, since it was the biggest, and cook there to ensure that there wasn't any foul play. Sasha's half of the counter only held the steak as well as some sauces and spices.

My half of the table held all the ingredients necessary for my mother's omelette. 

"You're going down, Kirschtein," Sasha growled. I only made a face at her before Connie started the timer and the true battle began.

All of my preperation from the two hours I spent asking my mom about the omelette the other day was put to the test as I cracked eggs and whisked them to perfection. I don't really remember much of the steps to  _make_ an omelette because after this I never bothered again. But I'm pretty sure I did good because when that baby was ready to be eaten it looked like God himself made that omelette. 

But Sasha made a steak and that in and of itself was fierce competition. But besides our dishes being done and ready to eat, we realized we didn't have a judge. None of us would have done because then whoever was chosen probably would have been blinded by bias or, in Armin's case, been too nice to choose a winner.

Amidst our grumbling over not being able to see who was a better cook, my mom came home from an errand and paused in the doorway to the kitchen. We all froze, knowing what a mess we made in her kitchen and worried that we might have just dug ourselves into an early grave.

But, to our relief, she laughed and said, "What are you guys doing?"

"Jean said I was no good at cooking so I challenged him to a cook-off," Sasha explained, giving me a withering look when she mentioned my thoughts on her cooking skills.

"But we don't have a judge," Armin piped up.

My mom nodded her head sagely. "That is a problem. But I think I would be willing to do it."

Cheers sounded throughout the kitchen and Sasha and I presented our dishes. My mother beamed at the sight of her omelette on the plate I gave to her.

She sat down at our dining table and cut into Sasha's steak first.

There was a tense silence as we all waited for her input. It only got more tense when she stopped chewing and widened her eyes. Finally, she swallowed and turned her head to Sasha.

"Sasha, dear, this is amazing!" she exclaimed.  Sasha beamed and shot me a challenging look as my mom brought my dish in front of her. It felt like years passed when she was cutting into it. My shoulders were tense and my breathing shallow as I awaited her final call on our cooking.

Finally, she bit off her forkful and chewed. She nodded and swallowed before turning to the two of us. 

"I think you both win! These area really good, I think you two might be equally matched in cooking!" she said cheerfully.

Sasha frowned and stepped forward. Tensely, she cut off a piece of my omelette and ate it. Then her eyes widened and she fell to her knees.

"I didn't even do anything other than meat! I could have used the potatoes that I've relied upon my entire life and I could have beaten you," she wailed dramatically. I sighed and held my hand out to help her up.

Finally, as we were standing face to face, I said. "Whatever, I probably shouldn't have called you a bad cook in the first place. Someone who eats as much as you couldn't possibly be bad at cooking."

She hit in me in the arm for that last comment but brought me in for a bone-crushing hug. We both descended into peals of laughter and thus, the battle was ended with a truce.

* * *

 

Marco giggled at the end of my story and shook his head. "You're a really dramatic narrator."

"I try."

He kissed me and settled down back in my arms after a moment. "Would you make me an omelette?"

"Of course," I reply, without thinking.

I would definitely relearn how to make an omelette for Marco. 

 


	9. We Are Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom night that isn't so much about romance as it is about friendship and being young for as long as possible.

Our graduation is right around the corner and our futures are bright and glowing. College is still a distant place in our minds, we are so used to being kids we don't quite realize how close independence and adulthood is. And maybe we keep it distant because it's scary to us to think our parents won't be there and we might end up like the homeless people on the streets we were wrongfully taught to be suspicious of or the forty year old in their mother's basement, sipping Mountain Dew and wondering what could have been if they tried harder. 

But I have Marco and my parents and my friends with me. I have a whole armada of people who will help me stay on my feet when times get hard; people I would do the same thing for. And it is scary to think of things like failure and regret, especially when we're so young and expected to have everything figured out by now. I know graduation is just waiting to pounce on us, take us by surprise, and just waiting for us to clutch at our high school diplomas before realizing,  _shit this is really happening, it's time for me to leave the nest._

But that's weeks, eons away before we call each other with shaky voices and say that it's going to be alright, we can make it, we have each other after all, what better preparation for adulthood could we possibly need? I mean, learning how to pay taxes might be nice but that's something learned along the way, like love. I'm not saying love and taxes go together, taxes should stay the fuck away from my love life. But I digress. For now we can focus on the times we have left to act like kids. We'll figure it out. 

And right now, I'm going to enjoy that time as I wait for my boyfriend to descend the stairs, and take my breath away- like he does everyday- in a tux while conversing quietly with his mother.

"He's been looking forward to doing this with you," she says. As she speaks, she smiles softly at me and up the stairs, where her son is no doubt fretting over a speck of dust on his tie. "You're good to him, Jean, I'm glad that you two are together."

She beams at me and I find myself being embraced by her as she pats my back. It's the warm embrace of a mother, a _good_ mother, protective and strong. 

"I think he's better to me, really," I say bashfully. Marco has always been the one to show me things that were right in front of me, waiting for me to notice. All he had to do was nudge me in the right direction but I think that's what makes him perfect. He knows when to turn my head the right way with that smile of his and when I need a reminder of how good I have it. He never does it on purpose, which makes him all the better.

Finally, Marco's tread shuffles across the rug at the top of his stairs and he reveals himself, dressed handsomely in a tux similar to mine. He pulls it off better, in my opinion. His hands struggle with the black tie that completes his outfit. Elena and I laugh softly at his expression, twisted in concentration, and his fingers which are all tangled in the knot of his tie. Even when he's acting like a dork, he's beautiful, "angel" definitely suits him.

He stands in front of his mother and smiles at me sheepishly as he waits to be fixed up by his mother's fussy hands. She shakes her head on occasion, making it known that Marco is indeed ridiculous.

Finally, with a pat on his shoulder and a hand smoothing down the non-existent wrinkles in his clothing, Elena releases him. She gasps with a sudden realization and scoots Marco towards me.

We exchange smiles and reflexively lace our fingers together. To be honest, it's just a habit at this point to hold each other's hands or to brush a knuckle against each other. We have an insatiable need to touch, to be together to make up for all the time we spent not even knowing of the other's existence.

Elena digs her phone from her pocket and taps at the screen a little before she holds it in front of her face and says happily, "Smile!"

Marco rolls his eyes but complies anyway, looping his arm around my hip and pulling me into his side. My own smile slides easily onto my face at that; it would be hard _not_ to smile. She snaps a few pictures and let's it slide when we stop looking at the camera. Probably because we look enthralled in each other. I don't know, it's just something that seems natural, maybe we aren't doing anything weird or lovey-dovey at all. But she still doesn't attempt to get our gazes to fix on the camera lens again.

"Alright, boys," Elena says fondly. "Get going, before you're too late."

"It's going to last until midnight, there's still three hours to spare," Marco says softly. We do get going though, as his mother waves at us from the light of his front door.

* * *

We make it to the school in good time, good enough that we spend a good while kissing each other in the car before we stumble out with mussed hair and slightly swollen lips.

Outside of the school is peaceful. The steady thrum of bass and drums makes it out into the cool night air, but other than that muffled sound and the click of our dress shoes, it is silent.

Marco takes my hand as we stroll past couples who are looking for a little more privacy than inside allows.

Marco and I enter through the cafeteria doors where we're met with an excited screech. Unsurprisingly, Sasha follows soon after. She flings herself onto Marco and I and bounces back as suddenly as she came, much too excited to stay still. She's really pretty, I'll admit. Her silky dress clings to her waist well and her hair is tied back into a perfect ponytail, the curls in it, obvious.

"Oh my gosh," she squeaks. "You two look so good!”

"You too, Sash!" Marco says back, cheerfully.

Sasha's volume has attracted some looks from the handful of people gathered in the cafeteria. Nothing new, really, except we're all dressed fancily.

I slip my fingers in between Marco's, our hands having been separated from the sheer force of the hug Sasha gave us. Connie sidles up next to her and studies us for a moment.

"You've actually dressed in a tux, Jean. I didn't think you'd do it," Connie teases. I roll my eyes, but not before a good punch to Connie's arm.

"Come on, let's go," Sasha whines, tugging at our free hands. "Connie and I volunteered to wait for your sorry asses. You will not keep us from the dance floor any longer!"

With Sasha pulling- and Connie pushing- us, we hustle to the gym, where the "dance floor" is. As we draw closer, the sound of the music becomes even more defined and the loud buzz of shouted conversation reveals itself for the first time. When we finally reach the gym, Sasha flings the doors open and the noise heightens even more now that it is released from behind the heavy metal doors. 

Marco and I are unceremoniously dumped onto the dance floor as Sasha and Connie sniff out the rest of our friends. Eventually, they are found as one giant group, bouncing to the upbeat music. 

Everyone greets us with "hey"s and gesturing hands when we finally make ourselves known to them. Without a moment of hesitation we fling ourselves into the throng of bodies that are our friends and join them in their shitty teenager dance, which is really only hopping in place to the music. And it's wonderful. It's a moment that reminds me that I've never been closer to another group of people as I am with them. I have never made friends who would stick with me through all these metaphoric miles and I have never once thought I would make a connection with others as I have with them.

They're irreplaceable with their infinite smiles and warm laughter and  _care._ Care for me, care for each other, care for us as a whole.  _  
_

So as we jump to the blasting music and I think, if I listened really closely, I could hear the beat of our young hearts synchronize in these last moments we are spending as kids in high school.

 

 


	10. Marry Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time Jean proposed to Marco.

I'm lucky that I was ever able to meet Marco. I'm lucky to have him in my life and I'm lucky to have him love me. Because no one loves quite like Marco Bodt.

He loves with everything he has. From the roots of the hairs on his head to the tips of his toes he's filled with kindness and care and sometimes I don't even know how I could have inherited all the luck in he world to get such an amazing human being to fall in love with me.

And I want to give it all back to him. Everything. Every drop of that pure love he has given to me I want to return to him. The thing is, that might just take a lifetime. But that's something I'm willing to do. I'll shower him with all the love he deserves 'till death do us part. 

The only way I can think of having him _know_ I would do that is with marriage. And I have a ring. It's a replica of the one I saw when I was a teenager all those years ago, when we first met. It's kind of symbolic to me I guess. I saw a ring similar to the one sitting in my pocket a long time ago, when I first realized that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Marco. And now it's in my pocket, waiting for me to present it to him and make my realization official. I will, I  _want_ to. But I don't know when.

Would it be too cliche to take him out to dinner at a restaurant that requires us to dress as we would on our wedding day and on bended knee ask him if he would like to marry me? Or how about a walk in the park, and just as the sun sets and paints the sky in its multi-colored beauty I sit him on a bench and ask him? Would it be too underwhelming to just do it in our apartment? Or would he like the privacy of it?

I don't know and all the internet is providing me with is corny proposals or the words "when the time is right" which really don't help me at all. Nothing has felt right so far. I took him out to dinner one night and didn't do it then. And then I took him to the zoo but didn't feel it there either. We took a walk around our apartment complex just as the sun was setting and I still didn't do it. I don't know what to look for to gauge the right time. Is there ever a right time or do I just do it? Or will it happen when I don't even expect it? Will it be the products of a powerful rush of affection when I'm looking at him?

Marco walks into the room then, with his small laptop in hand, a cheerful smile on his face.

"Hey, baby," he says and settles next to my mopey ass on the couch. "Do you want to watch a movie with me?"

I nod and flop my head onto his shoulder. I could do it then. As he's booting up the computer I could slip to the floor and finally ask that question. 

I nuzzle my nose in his neck instead. It doesn't  _feel_ like the right time, I suppose. We're not doing anything particularly special. We're being our domestic selves and about to watch a movie that Marco has picked out for us. It's too normal of a moment. It might be underwhelming for him. 

"What're we watching?" I ask, not moving my attention from him.

He hums and rests his head on mine. "Just some romance I've been wanting to watch."

I nod as much as I can without shaking Marco's head off of mine and stare blankly at the screen as the movie loads. "What's wrong?"

"Hm? Nothing, I'm just thinking," I reply. 

He strokes my hair in a soothing way. "What about?"

I shrug noncommittally, and give him a half-truth. "It's just a painting that I have to make and I'm not quite sure on the subject."

"How about the lake outside?" Marco suggests. I hum my agreement at that. It's a good suggestion, and I file it away to be brought out at another time.

The movie begins but I don't really pay attention to it. My mind is elsewhere in its typhoon of marriage and proposals. And the future. Always the future is when I get caught up. But instead of being anxious about it for once, I'm excited. I'm excited to spend the rest of my life with Marco. I can't wait to learn more, experience more,  _love_ more with him. 

My mind is brought back to the movie when Marco comments on it. It's towards the end of the movie I'm guessing because the man is on his knees with his smiling girlfriend in front of him, covering her eyes as she's no doubt shedding some dramatic, happy tears. Her boyfriend is proposing to her. 

"Geez, her ring looks so nice. How the hell was he even able to afford that? Isn't he a struggling author?" Marco contemplates. 

I kiss his cheek, wondering if he would be happy with the ring that I bought him. Would he look at it with wide eyes like he is with the one onscreen? He catches my lips with his for a moment, the romance of the movie probably having affected the both of us. I glide my hands over his body and feel a rush of love for him. 

"I love you," I say and slip off of the couch, onto my knees, my hands, resting on his. "And I have an even better ring for you than the one in the movie."

Marco's eyes slowly widen and his mouth forms itself into an "o." I feel like doing the same, but this is it. This is the moment, I know it. 

I smile at him. The ring is slipped from my pocket with my shaky hands and I present it to him with damp eyes. "If you'll have it. If you'll have me, that is."

Marco starts nodding, little hiccups of breath falling from his mouth. He set his laptop on the couch and flings himself onto me. He wraps his arms around my neck and kisses me with a fervor usually reserved for nights when we have sex. It's a kiss of passion. And I kiss him back with as much as he has given me. 

"Yes," he replies with a shaky breath. 

I  _grin_ , like a love struck idiot and kiss him again. 

He gives his hand to me and, finally, after weeks of agonizing over the perfect moment, I slip his ring onto his finger. On our soft carpet, wrapped up in each other's arms I realize that this was definitely a good moment. We're comfortable here with each other and completely alone. We can kiss each other as deeply as we want, without the knowledge of prying eyes and we can lean into each other while lying on the floor. We can be alone and bask in this while we can.

Finally, Marco sits up and pries himself from my arms. He smiles and trails to our bedroom.

"I guess there's no reason to hide this anymore," he calls. He comes back from the bedroom with a little jewelry box in the palm of his hand. He opens it slowly, and reveals the gold band inside. It's a ring. Like the one I bought him, except without the flashy diamond, it sits on its cushy pillow inside. Marco takes it carefully and smiles.

"Will you marry me?" he asks.

I nod excitedly and then we're back in each other's arms. He slips the ring onto my own ring finger. We laugh quietly, through the joyful tears dampening our eyes.

We kiss again and we begin walking towards the bedroom. We undress each other slowly on the way, and when we finally reach the bed in nothing but our underwear we shed those too and tuck ourselves under the covers. 

I prep Marco slowly, drinking up the sounds he makes when I hit his prostate or twist my fingers in a pleasurable way. It's slow going, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Marco's told me this is how he likes it, slow and loving.

He spreads his legs even more for me when he's finally ready. I slip into him carefully, making it easier for him. I want it to be pleasurable for him. It's a nice night and I intend to make this a memorable one.

Marco rolls his head back in the pillows and sighs. He takes my hands and twines our fingers together. Our hands rest together on either side of his head. I can feel the metal of his ring on my hand and I'm sure he can feel mine. I kiss him and we make love under the covers with sighed breaths and sweet kisses and whispered "I love you"s.

It was a memorable night. It was a beautiful night.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me through that ridiculous hiatus. You are all absolutely wonderful!


End file.
